


Bezoar Blood

by kyrilu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Dimension Travel, Kid Fic, M/M, Time Travel, gary stu nonsense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29152452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/kyrilu
Summary: A strange teenage boy falls from one dimension to another. (Yet another Harrymort time/dimension-traveling child fic.)
Relationships: Harry Potter & Original Male Character(s), Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Fanfiction.Net in 2016 and I've been too embarassed to crosspost it, but I decided to go ahead and finally archive it here because why not. I don't think I'll be continuing this.

Jaculus was used to being kidnapped.

He had a small journal tucked in his pocket that kept record of each kidnapping. Luna had given it to him when he was six years old.

She had shown him back issues of _The Quibbler_ , and his small hands had carefully cut out the right news clippings and then pasted them into the journal.

And when he'd gone down to London to spend time with his father, Jaculus found the _Daily Prophet_ news clippings that described the same incidents and pasted those, too.

It was very organized.

All the pages in the journal were headlined by the words:

_DATE MISSING:—DATE FOUND:—RECOVERED BY: HP / DL / Both / Other_

Of all stupid things, Jaculus felt something tight in his throat when he thought about the empty pages in the journal. He didn't want to get kidnapped again, for Merlin's sake, but there was almost a familiarity of being snapped out of _Incarcerous_ ropes, or rapidly being tugged into a desperate side-along Apparition.

And right now—right now, Jaculus thought that what he was about to do was akin to being kidnapped again. The unknown, the mysterious, the dangerous, somewhere far away from home, but in this case he was doing it himself and there was no one to rescue him anymore.

Jaculus moved toward the Veil. It was whispering so softly that he couldn't make out the words, but if he listened hard enough, he could almost hear it calling his name.

"Jack—don't!"

Jaculus started. He turned around, and it was Teddy, his hair bubblegum pink-purple and his black robes streaming behind him. Jaculus looked at him, memorizing the sight of his best friend.

"I thought you were dead," Jaculus said numbly. His snake Kaisa stirred awake at his neck, having recognized Teddy's voice. She was always fond of him, and there was a spark of warmness in her piercing yellow eyes when she blinked them open.

"I got the antidote in time," Teddy said. "Your blood—magic—whatever it was you left behind, it was enough. Professor Longbottom and Draco Malfoy, of all people, worked on it and they're having it being given out to everyone."

It wasn't too unexpected—Draco taught Potions at the school in London and Uncle Neville taught Herbology at Hogwarts, of course. What was unexpected, though, was the fact that Neville and Draco had worked together and they were quickly mass-distributing it, no exceptions.

Jaculus didn't know what it meant. Maybe it meant the prophecy was fulfilled. The war had been stalled when the plague came and even before that, but maybe it was permanently gone for good.

Which reminded him—"And you're here," Jaculus said. "In London?"

"Nobody's enforcing the Divide because of the plague," Teddy said. "And I knew you were going to do something stupid. The note you left…so it's true? Harry and—"

"Yeah."

His voice came out low and scratchy. Jaculus was very, very tired, and he had never felt so haunted before.

He had the Elder Wand up his sleeve, the Resurrection Stone ring on a chain around his neck, and the Invisibility Cloak folded in his pocket. He was terrified of the second Hallow—he didn't dare wear it on his hand.

"They died because of me," Jaculus said. "I did something to stop the plague from spreading. Killed the Plague Doctor. But I couldn't handle it and I almost lost my hold on the plague, and they—they stepped in and they helped."

"I'm sorry, Jack," Teddy said. His hair color flickered to its normal, somber black, and Jaculus felt Teddy's hand squeeze his shoulder, pausing to brush Kaisa's scales lightly.

There was true grief in Teddy's eyes. Jaculus wanted to cry, to sweep Teddy in a hug and just shake, because hell, he was an _orphan_ now and it was his fault because he wasn't strong enough. But all he felt was numbness and coldness, and he let himself lean against Teddy's touch.

" _You ssshould take him with usss_ ," Kaisa hissed.

" _No,_ " Jaculus said.

He said it in English, too. "Teddy, you can't come with us."

Teddy's eyes flashed. "In your note, you said you thought there would be something on the other side of the Veil. You're my best friend and you can't just leave. I'm going, too."

"You belong here," Jaculus said. "Victoire, Rose, Hugo, Louis—and everyone else. _The Quibbler_ needs you when I'm gone."

"They're your family, too! And I know they can be awful, but you have your family and friends on _this_ side." Teddy made a sweeping gesture, indicating London, this side of the Divide. "And the paper—"

Jaculus felt a pang at the mention of family, and he made himself shake his head. "Wizarding Britain's changing. I think it's going to reunite again, and it doesn't need me. You need to keep documenting everything's that happening, Teddy."

"Bloody hell, you prat, you can't run away. You're not the only one who lost your parents."

Jaculus flinched. Remus Lupin had died a year ago during a raid gone wrong in London, and Nymphadora Tonks had been one of the first plague victims.

"I know," Jaculus said. "But I can't stay here. I have to do this. It's not suicide. Dad left me some things and I know that if I go through the Veil, I won't die."

He said, "I'm sorry."

He twitched the Elder Wand from under his sleeve, and a red light shot out toward Teddy, stunning him.

Jaculus did not want to look back.

But he looked back. Teddy Lupin, slumped over and unconscious on the ground at the Department of Mysteries, his hair still that rare color of somber black, his original color when he was sad or angry and couldn't control his Metamorphmagus abilities.

Usually Teddy kept his hair that cheerful bubblegum pink-purple, or he matched the Weasleys or Delacours with red or silver.

Jaculus and Teddy had grown up together.

Jaculus forced himself to continue forward. The Veil was still whispering.

He made a wish on the Hallows. The wand in his sleeve, the ring at his neck, the cloak in his pocket.

He fell.


	2. Chapter 2

Naturally, he woke up on the other side of the Veil.

Jaculus tumbled out of the darkness, landing in a Department of Mysteries that was the same, but different. When he cast a _Tempus_ charm, his eyes widened in disbelief.

It was 2000, two years after the Battle of Hogwarts—assuming this timeline or dimension had a Battle of Hogwarts.

Teddy would just be a baby here. Salazar, this world's Harry Potter would only be five years older than Jaculus. That was weird.

(Assuming there was a Teddy Lupin and Harry Potter in this dimension, but Jaculus pushed that thought away as hard as he could.)

" _Did we make it through?_ " Kaisa said. She poked her head out from around his neck.

" _I think ssso_ ," Jaculus said, looking around at the empty room. " _There are no Dark Mark bannersss here. The magic experimented in thisss department is slightly dark, but not as dark as it was where I came from. I don't think the Dark Lord runsss the Ministry in thisss world."_

_"What do you think happened?"_

_"I don't know. I have to find more information. Keep an eye out if you sssee or sssmell anyone."_

Jaculus had been in the Department of Mysteries before, and he knew that the closest source of information was the Hall of Prophecies. He had been here, as a child, holding the glass orb and not understanding, but then he had returned years later, angry and bitter and disillusioned.

It was early morning, and he was lucky that there were no Ministry workers around. Jaculus easily made his way to the Hall of Prophecies without any hassle, and when he found a familiar shelf full of glowing glass orbs…

"It's not here," he said, stunned. He said urgently, " _Kaisa, my prophecy isn't here."_

She let out an unintelligible hiss.

Panic rose in his chest, sharp and tight. Jaculus cast around, darting through the shelves, and he found—there, there was something familiar, even if it wasn't his.

The prophecy that Sybil Trelawney had made to Albus Dumbledore had been smashed, but sometime later, a replica was made and it had been restored in the Hall of Prophecies.

Jaculus held the orb in his hand.

It was marked fulfilled, and on the shelf, underneath it, was a _Daily Prophet_ article that recounted how Harry Potter had defeated and killed Lord Voldemort during the Battle of Hogwarts.

" _The Dark Lord is dead here_ ," Jaculus said. " _The war ended after the Battle of Hogwartsss. And I don't exissst. Thisss is bad, Kaisa. Really bad."_

 _"You alwaysss wanted the war to be over,_ " she reminded him.

" _But not like thisss!"_

Jaculus ran a hand through his hair, trying to get his thoughts in order. Did he jump through the Veil for nothing? He left Teddy and _The Quibbler_ and what was left of everyone and everything he loved for—for this? For this unusual, empty world?

He needed to talk to somebody in this dimension. He needed to figure out what he was supposed to do.

The plague, he decided. He would cut it off before it started. Stop the masses and masses of people from dying: Teddy's mum and Luna and Uncle Ron and Scorpius and everyone slaughtered from the plague.

He wasn't entirely certain that there could be a plague here, but there was a high chance there was.

" _If I want to kill the Plague Doctor and his organization,"_ Jaculus said, " _I'm going to have to bring the Dark Lord back."_

He could resurrect the Dark Lord. Jaculus couldn't do it in his world, because of how he'd died there. (No—he's not going to remember that, not right now.)

In this world, the Dark Lord died differently. Jaculus was nothing but resourceful. It was sort of a drilled in instinct after numerous kidnappings and numerous instructors, either Dark or Light or a mix of both.

Jaculus steadied himself.

" _There'sss no way I would be able to take on all of them without hisss help,"_ he said.

 _"Are you sssure?"_ Kaisa asked.

Jaculus could hear Kaisa's unspoken words. The Dark Lord was dangerous, especially here, where there was no prophecy about Jaculus held over his head. All those years Jaculus had spent learning and training under the Dark Lord…it meant nothing to the Dark Lord of this universe.

" _I will_ ," Jaculus said. " _I owe him my life, even if he isn't the sssame person. D—I mean, the Harry Potter in this world will hate it, but I have to."_

Even if it meant the war would start up again.

Jaculus could almost hear the old, gravelly voice of Gellert Grindelwald in his head, chiding him about his foolishness.

No, Jaculus knew he had to do this. He had a sense of honor within him that he couldn't let go of; he still thought of himself as a child of prophecy. It was arrogant and naïve, but he knew he would go insane if he couldn't hold onto this idea of hope.

* * *

The island lighthouse was empty. Nuremberg was empty, too. Gellert Grindelwald was dead in this world.

Jaculus wanted to find somebody he could trust. Maybe he wouldn't tell them the entire truth, but he needed someone to talk to, someone familiar.

" _You could go to this world'sss Harry Potter,"_ Kaisa said, very reasonably, but Jaculus shook his head grimly.

" _Teddy's grandmum?"_ Kaisa offered, since Jaculus had read from old _Prophet_ obituaries that Uncle Remus and Aunt Tonks were dead here, which was depressing and maddening and too much to think about, poor Teddy. " _Professssor Longbottom? Ron? Hermione? Any of the Weasleysss?"_

 _"I have to be careful, Kaisa,"_ Jaculus said. " _They wouldn't approve of me bringing the Dark Lord back and they'd ssstop me."_

 _"Draco and Narcisssa?"_ (Other _Prophet_ articles had pointed out that Lucius Malfoy was currently residing in Azkaban.)

" _It's too dangerousss to approach anyone on the ssside of the Dark. You know how they can be. With the war over, I don't know how desssperate or loyal they are."_

 _"Well,"_ Kaisa said in a self-satisfied manner, retreating to warm herself in the folds of Jaculus' robes, " _Luna, then."_

That was actually a brilliant idea.

It took a while for Jaculus to figure out where Luna lived.

In his world, he'd always known her to live at Hogwarts, running _The Quibbler_ and flitting in and out of classes to say hello. The Divide had driven her out of her home in Ottery St. Catchpole, along with the Weasleys and other refugees. Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and several magical communities in the north of the United Kingdom were solidly Dumbledore's territory. Everything else, London being prominent because of the Ministry, was the Dark Lord's territory.

Here, there was no Divide. Here, Dumbledore had died startlingly early.

All of these confusing thoughts were swirling in Jaculus' mind when he approached the Lovegood House, a formation shaped like a rook. A towering grey structure among hills. Luna had described it to him before, reminiscing about playing in the gardens as a child.

She opened the door when he knocked. She looked incredibly young. Her robes were slightly crumpled, a sign that Jaculus recognized when she was busy working on a project or another and didn't bother changing. There was a crown of flowers in her hair.

Jaculus remembered holding her hand when she faded, the plague wrecking hell on the magical systems in her body.

Now, she was undeniably alive.

"Luna," he said, fighting to keep the sheer relief out of his voice. "Hello."

She blinked at him. "You look familiar," she said, looking at him up and down. Then she said, "What's your snake's name?"

"Kaisa," he said. "I've had her since I was little. She's very helpful when I'm dueling." She'd gotten him out of a lot of tight spots.

Luna nodded. "And what's your name?"

"Jack," he said simply. Everyone in Dumbledore's territory had called him Jack.

He hadn't figured out which last name he would use yet—maybe his middle name? No, this world's Harry Potter would definitely notice. His grandmothers' maiden names were also firmly out of the question.

With a start, Jaculus recalled the Hallows. Oh. Noticeable, maybe, but why not?

"My name is Jack Peverell," he told Luna.

* * *

According to Luna, her father was out of the country, chasing down a mysterious artifact in South America. She offered Jaculus her too-sweet tea he was used to, and he accepted gladly, letting her chattering about snakes sweep over him.

Jaculus had forgotten how much he missed her. Luna Lovegood, who taught him how to write newspaper ledes, who had always loved Kaisa, who believed in the impossible.

When Jaculus was a child, he was often unsettled by the adults at Hogwarts. They murmured of the prophecy and shot wary glances at him. They didn't mean to accuse him, but sometimes it scared him.

So he would find Luna. She would show him her work for _The Quibbler,_ and he fell in love with journalism.

Her voice, directly addressing him, jolted him out of his memories.

"Jack," she said, her eyes curious, "who are you?"

"I'm from another universe," Jaculus said. "I fell through the Veil."

"There are many methods of interdimensional travel," Luna said, her tone dreamy and thoughtful. "Like time turners, mirrors, and rabbit holes. But the Veil is probably the easiest, even if it could kill you. You knew the Luna Lovegood of your universe?"

Jaculus nodded. "I did. You helped raise me, even. I worked on _The Quibbler_ with you and Teddy Lupin."

"I saw little Teddy the other day," she said, smiling. "It would be nice if he grew up to be a journalist here, too."

Abruptly, Jaculus put down his cup of tea. The mention of Teddy made him remember his purpose.

"Is it okay if I stay here with you?" he asked. "I know I'm a complete stranger to you, but I—I don't know who else to go to. I don't know who to trust in this world, but I know I can trust you. I won't have to be here long; I'll go to Hogwarts in a week when the term starts. But right now, I want to get my plans straight. Something bad might happen in a couple of years, and I want to save this world from going down the same road, like mine did."

Luna gave him a long, searching look.

After a moment, she said softly, "You can stay as long as you want. But one day, you'll have to tell me why you didn't go to your dad first."

Jaculus choked. "S-sorry?"

"You can keep your secrets, for now," Luna said. "No one wants Pandora's Box to be opened right away, with all those evils and illnesses inside. But your eyes are as green as his."


	3. Chapter 3

Back in Jaculus' world, there used to be a graveyard at the boundaries of the Forbidden Forest. It was where they had buried their dead, victims of the war and the plague alike.

He had never gotten to properly grieve over everyone who died of the plague. He had just felt detached and scared in a hollow way, and really, when it came down to it, he hadn't even mourned over Uncle Remus' properly, either.

Raid gone wrong. The heavy weight of guilt and destiny settling over Jaculus' shoulders. Running to see his prophecy again, and then to free Gellert Grindelwald and learn, and then the plague, and then…

And then they're gone.

Jaculus was in a morbid state of mind. He found himself sinking into a haze, cradling Kaisa in his arms while he curled up by a window overlooking the hills beyond the Lovegood House.

It was all catching up to him. Reality sinking in.

Wisely, Luna didn't bother him for a couple of hours. But finally, she came to his side, toting tea, sandwiches, and a copy of this month's _Quibbler._

That got Jaculus' attention.

"In my world," Jaculus said, flipping the colorful pages, " _The Quibbler_ became a weekly paper. A solid alternative to the _Prophet._ You never stopped writing about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, but there was a lot there that served to counter the _Prophet's_ propaganda."

He told Luna about the Divide, Wizarding Britain split in half. The _Prophet_ for the Dark Lord's territory and _The Quibbler_ for Dumbledore's.

"It was one of the things I really hated about the Dark Lord's land," he said, shaking his head at the memory. "You can't respect a paper like the _Prophet._ "

" _The Quibbler_ was nearly the same, during the conflict here," Luna said. "A little different, of course. My dad printed stories in support of Harry and the Order."

A shadow flickered in her eyes; she went on to say, "Death Eaters captured me and his stories changed near the end. But everything's fine now."

"Xenophilus Lovegood," Jaculus said, quietly.

Luna's father had died early on in the war. Luna hadn't talked about him a lot. Jaculus had never met him.

Luna saw the look on his face and gave him a biscuit, which had been hiding somewhere between the sandwiches on the tray she brought. "Don't worry. The Veil brought you here for a reason, Jack. You heard it whispering to you, didn't you?"

Jaculus nodded.

"Good," she said, satisfied.

In silence, they both finished eating. The biscuit Luna had given him was delicious—it tasted strong, tangy, and sweet. Gingersnap, he identified.

After a while, Jaculus asked her if she knew where Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks were buried.

* * *

Maybe it was a way of grieving for Teddy, too, in a sense. Jaculus was already missing the Teddy-he-knew.

This graveyard was not near Hogwarts. It was surprisingly close by in Ottery St. Catchpole, a new graveyard dug among the rolling hills and grasses. A new graveyard built for the tragedies of the war that ended two years ago.

Apparently, Arthur Weasley had suggested for it to be built there, where his son Fred lay buried alongside other casualties.

Jaculus had walked to the graveyard, following the directions Luna had given him. Now, he stood among the tombstones and felt like a ghost.

He recognized so many names. Most of them died differently in his world. Some of them were even ones he had kept track of himself, new plague casualties for _The Quibbler_ to record in its obituaries.

He stopped by the simple gravestones set aside for Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks.

There was nothing special about them, nothing fancy. Just two names and a date, the same date.

When Jaculus squeezed his eyes closed, he could still see Uncle Remus' still body, struck from an _Avada Kedavra_. He could see the pale hue of Tonks' plague-ridden body, and the stricken expression on Teddy's face.

Jaculus could see his dad, too. " _It's not your fault,"_ Dad had said, before grasping the glowing orb that had powered the plague. " _Hey. Jack. Look at me. None of this is your fault. It's okay. I'll fix this for you._ We'll _fix this for you."_

Another hand reached out. A rush of white. Dad saying, _Love you, Jack_ , gazing at him solemnly with green eyes that matched his own _._ Then, a deeper, rich voice-

Jaculus didn't want to remember.

"All this time, and even a dying wish," Jaculus wondered out loud, feeling the wind breeze by, rustling his dark robes. "I still think it's my fault."

Had his dad ever felt this way, when it came to his own prophecy and his own role? He probably had; Jaculus knew his dad, knew his loyal and self-sacrificing nature. An outsider would say that Jaculus inherited that trait, but Jaculus knew himself, knew how selfish and unbalanced he could be.

This wasn't about noble regrets. It was about the bitter taste of failure and guilt.

When Jaculus turned around, he stiffened.

Harry Potter, twenty years old and alive, was standing behind him.

"Oh," Jaculus said, soft. Of course.

D— _Harry_ looked at him, his expression one of mild puzzlement and non-recognition. Then he gave Jaculus a sheepish smile. "Er, sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle you. Probably gave you a scare; I know this is a graveyard."

"No, I'm fine," Jaculus said. He prided himself for keeping the stammer from his voice, for not trembling. "Evening, Mr. Potter."

"Evening," Harry returned. "You don't go to Hogwarts, do you? I'm the assistant DADA teacher. I don't think I've seen you around."

Harry was teaching at Hogwarts. Luna had told him earlier; it had been framed as a casual, offhand comment, but Jaculus could catch the intention in her voice.

In Jaculus' world, Harry was a general and a reluctant politician. But sometimes he did teach, whether it was the occasional class or two, or instructing Jaculus one-on-one.

"I'll be a new transfer student this term," Jaculus said smoothly. "Jack Peverell."

Sharp surprise evident, Harry said, "I thought the Peverell name died off."

Jaculus shrugged. "It's my name. My parents are dead, though, so I don't know anything about my family. I was raised by a family friend who tutored me."

He had come up with the story earlier. Luna had agreed to help him forge some paperwork— _The Quibbler_ had given her some unorthodox connections.

"And you're transferring to Hogwarts this term."

"Yeah," Jaculus said. "My guardian thought it would be best for me to attend before I take my OWLs. I'm going into fifth year."

"I see," Harry said. "Best luck on your OWLs. Hogwarts is a good school to prepare. We've been in good shape lately, you know, since the curse that was on the Defense against the Dark Arts position is gone. The professor now—Professor Rischer, I'm under her apprenticeship—she's pretty brilliant."

Jaculus tried not to flinch. It hurt to see the welcoming friendliness in Harry's expression, the sort of friendliness directed at a stranger, at a student, at an unfamiliar child.

And the reason why the curse on the DADA position was gone…well.

Before Jaculus could respond, Harry gestured at the gravestones around them. "Did you know someone who passed away in the war?"

No one in this world.

Jaculus shook his head. "No, I was just curious. I'm staying at the Lovegood House right now. I was wandering around."

"You know Luna and Xeno?" Harry asked.

Another part of the story Jaculus had concocted with Luna. "I've been owling Luna," he said. "Talking about her column in _The Quibbler._ I live far away from Hogwarts, and she offered to let me stay with her before the term starts and during holidays."

Jaculus was a decent liar. But he felt the weight of lying to someone who looked and acted exactly like the Harry Potter of his life, and it made him tired.

He dropped his gaze to the gravestones at their feet. "I'll leave you to it," Jaculus said tightly. "I didn't mean to intrude."

"It's all right," Harry said. "I'm in the area visiting friends and thought I'd check in here for a second."

Visiting the Weasleys, Jaculus guessed.

Jaculus turned to leave. "See you at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter. It was nice to meet you."

He darted away before he could hear Harry's parting words.

* * *

Jaculus chose not to reflect on the unexpected run-in. Instead, he focused on the task at hand.

He sat by the window alone, lost in thought. Kaisa was looped around Luna's arm, lazing there while Luna scribbled something down with a quill.

The remnants of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes were somewhere in Hogwarts. Harry, or maybe his friends, must have gathered them up and hid them there.

Jaculus could sense the Horcruxes. It was a pull, a muted magnetic sensation. If he closed his eyes now, he could feel them humming stronger than the Hallows he was carrying.

The best way to search the school would be to attend there.

And, anyway, he had never got to finish his magical education. He didn't even have any fourth year instruction from Hogwarts or the Academy in London, because of his breakdown, crisis, whatever that was.

It was another universe. He didn't have a family and he didn't have Teddy. He was going to bring back the Dark Lord and he knew the Plague Doctor would be rising in years to come, but now he was worried about _school._

Jaculus choked out a laugh.

And then he curled into himself, huddling his knees and arms together, and he tried to think about nothing at all.

* * *

Dinner at the Burrow was a weekly affair.

Harry wasn't dating Ginny any more, but that didn't mean he wasn't welcomed back in the household. Truthfully, it had been a rough few weeks after their break-up, but then Ron had dragged him out from his quarters in Hogwarts, saying, _Look, mate, you're still family, and my mum's been missing you_ , _even if she's disappointed that you and my sister didn't work out._

It'd been a mutual break-up, he and Gin. Ginny had been picked up by the Holyhead Harpies after she graduated Hogwarts, while Harry chose to stay behind to learn under Professor Rischer.

They had half-heartedly tried to keep up a long-distance relationship. In the end, they'd told the rest of the Weasley clan that it wasn't working.

It had felt a little lonely for a while, but Harry was happy teaching. He caught up with old Hogwarts friends on a regular basis, and he loved visiting his little godson.

His life was straightforward, reassembling itself in the aftermath of the war.

But now, for a moment, he felt himself strangely unsettled, thinking of the boy in the graveyard.

Fifteen or sixteen years old. Dark, unruly curly hair, and a face made up of sharp aristocratic angles that vaguely reminded Harry of…Sirius?

When Harry entered the cozy atmosphere of the Burrow, Ron and Hermione were already there, sitting at the table while Mrs. Weasley was bustling about in the kitchen.

"Sorry for running late," Harry said. "I stopped by the graveyard. I actually ran into a new Hogwarts transfer student there, of all places."

"Don't worry," Ron said with a shrug, his Auror training robes rustling with the movement. "We're still waiting on Dad. A transfer student, you said-?"

"Yeah," Harry said, brow furrowed. "Hey, Hermione, the Peverell name died out, didn't it?"

He knew she had done more reading about the Peverell brothers after the war, chasing down information on the Hallows out of curiosity.

"Well, yes," Hermione said, surprised. "The family only exists through the female line. You and, well, the Gaunts." Her voice trailed off, and Harry nodded, acknowledging her unease.

"The new student I met," Harry said, "he said his name was Peverell. That's not exactly a common name, is it? You think he's really related to _the_ Peverells?"

"Could be," Ron said. "Wizarding family trees can be complicated. I know mine is all over the place—I mean, we _are_ related to the Blacks."

"Maybe there was an illegitimate son somewhere," Hermione suggested. "Or maybe a distant descendant decided to change their surname for the prestige. I don't think wizards do that a lot, but you never know."

Harry mulled over that for a couple of seconds. That was certainly plausible. And he remembered how Sirius had been struck out from his family tree. Perhaps there was a Peverell who got disowned and quietly continued the name in obscurity.

"Yeah, I reckon something like that happened," he said eventually. "The boy was a bit strange. He said his parents died and he grew up under a tutor. Said he didn't know much about his family. But I thought I've seen him before, I dunno…"

Ron said, jokingly, "Maybe You-Know-Who knocked someone up."

Harry made a strangled noise while Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"No!" Harry sputtered. "This kid is about fifteen years old. Voldemort would have been a bodiless spirit, remember? And I can't believe you made me do that math for that, Ron."

Hermione laughed, damn her, and Harry scowled at her as well as Ron. It was good to know that they could joke about stuff like this, though. Made him feel like the war was a decade ago instead of two years ago.

Harry decided to put the matter of Jack Peverell behind him.

"Anyways, I'll find out more about him when the term starts. He said he's staying with Luna, since they've exchanged owls about Bibbering Humdingers or Nargles or the like. I suppose I trust Luna's judgment."

He knew Hermione still had an instinctive recoil reaction to the mention of Luna's creatures, and he wasn't disappointed, hearing her scoff. Although, by now, her reaction was mixed with a sense of fondness.

Ron grinned. "Good ol' Luna."

The conversation shifted away to Ron and Hermione talking about their week.

Ron recounted his recent successes in Auror training: " _You know, Potions really isn't that bad, when you're learning useful things for Auror work. And having a Potions instructor who isn't a greasy git helps. Sorry to speak ill of the dead, but seriously, remember?"_

Hermione talked about the advocacy organization she was in, which worked with the Ministry: " _This woman came in yesterday, a werewolf, and you wouldn't believe how her previous employer treated her…"_

Harry let the familiar flow of his friends' conversation wash over him, and he interjected comments here and there. Outside of the news about Jack Peverell, Harry didn't have much to share, since the Hogwarts term hadn't started yet.

They were interrupted by the crack of Mr. Weasley Apparating home.

Mrs. Weasley bustled over to greet him, looking peeved at his lateness. "Was there trouble at work?"

"Yes, there was," he said, obviously disturbed, and he landed a distracted kiss on her cheek. "There was a meeting of all the Department heads, and the head of the Department of Mysteries told us that there had been a break-in."

Harry felt a cold shudder pass through him. He felt as if he was in fifth year again. Beside him, Ron and Hermione traded glances; they were on the same page as him.

"He said," Mr. Weasley continued, "there was a breach in the Death Chamber."

Sirius falling into the Veil, Harry thought.

"And the Hall of Prophecies next," Mr. Weasley said, furthering the uncomfortable déjà vu. "Somebody accessed your replaced prophecy two days ago, Harry."

"That's impossible!" Hermione burst out. "You can't access a prophecy if you're not included in it. We know that very well."

"Apparently, someone did," Mr. Weasley said, wearily. "And you're sure it wasn't you? The early morning hours this Wednesday-?"

"I was in my quarters at Hogwarts. You can check my Floo history or ask the portraits if they saw me leave to Apparate. I was sleeping until nearly afternoon; I'd been up late preparing class material with Professor Rischer."

"The Ministry isn't going to investigate Harry, are they?" Ron said to his dad.

To Harry's surprise, Mr. Weasley replied, "No, most of us Department heads are pretty sure it isn't you. You could easily walk in and look at it during regular hours and nobody would care. It would have to be someone else."

"But why the Death Chamber?" Harry said uncomfortably.

"Merlin knows," Mr. Weasley said, sighing. "Everyone's hoping there was something wrong with the Department of Mysteries' wards."

Nobody wanted to entertain the idea of the other subject of the prophecy.

Harry clenched his fist. He knew Voldemort was dead for good.

Why would someone bother to break into the Department of Mysteries to look at his prophecy? Didn't they know it had been fulfilled already?

Today, Harry realized, had been a very strange day.


	4. Chapter 4

Jaculus tried not to tune out Headmistress McGonagall's explanations of Hogwarts. He _knew_ this place; he went to school here; he had lived and grew up here, for Salazar's sake.

But he knew he had to keep up the appearance of being a transfer student, so he nodded politely while she explained the Houses, the point system, OWL exams, Quidditch and all of the rest.

It was a day before the term started. Yesterday, Jaculus had owled over the relevant paperwork, courtesy of Luna, and McGonagall invited him to come to Hogwarts for an information session.

"And if you need any help," she was saying, sitting behind her desk and watching him carefully, "you can always ask a professor or another student."

"Thank you, Professor," Jaculus said. He was about to make excuses about wanting to explore the castle, but then he remembered something important, something he knew he couldn't take for granted in this universe. "I have a pet snake. Will it be all right…?"

Kaisa stuck her head out from beneath Jaculus' robes, hissing a greeting.

"I promise she won't be a danger to any of the students," Jaculus said. "She's tame. Non-venomous."

That was a lie. Of course, Kaisa knew better not to bite students at random. Jaculus knew that he could have easily cast a spell to make her non-venomous, but she liked having that ability, and it made Jaculus feel safer anyway.

McGonagall looked startled. "A snake, Mr. Peverell? Hogwarts usually only permits owls, toads, and cats."

"I don't want to leave her," he said. He was about to spin a tale about not wanting to burden Luna with having to take care of Kaisa, but he found himself speaking the truth instead.

"I told you my parents died. My father gave her to me and she's one of the few things I have left of him. Kaisa's helped me out loads of times; she's like a sister to me."

_My father gave her to me._

There was never a time when Jaculus could remember not having Kaisa. Dad had told him what happened, once, when Jaculus asked. He seemed conflicted, like he always was when it came to the Dark Lord, but in the long run, it was obviously a happy memory.

"You were an infant, Jack. It was the end of the week and he had you Portkeyed back to me. Everyone was still on edge because of the prophecy and we still thought he'd find some way to go back on the arrangement.

"I was always worried about you.

"But he sent you back, just like the handful of times before that, and I remember the sheer relief of holding you again. Making sure you were intact, little tufts of messy hair and all"—and here, Dad ruffled Jack's curls, hair that was like his but wasn't exactly—"and that's when I saw her."

"Kaisa was wrapped around your fist, the rest of her body draping out on your stomach. And you were hissing at her, and she was hissing back. You were still very small. Even in Parseltongue you didn't have much language going on, but you could still express impressions, certain feelings. I couldn't understand you very well, and I don't think Voldemort could, either, but Kaisa got you perfectly.

"When Luna saw you and Kaisa, she said you looked like that Muggle mythological hero Hercules. Which is a very Luna thing to say, because _obviousssly_ _you would never ssstrangle Kaisa like Herculesss, Jack_ …" Dad said the last bit in Parseltongue, prompting Kaisa to hiss an indignant, " _Of coursssse he wouldn't!"_

Jaculus snapped himself out of the memory.

That never happened, or will happen.

He didn't think he could ever connect the young stranger at the graveyard with his dad.

Jaculus added to McGonagall, picking up their discussion, "And Kaisa's a magical snake, too. Anytime I cast a spell, I'm usually with her and there's a way we fight together."

McGonagall's expression was a mixture of pity and curiosity, the wrinkled lines of her face creased with emotion.

"Fine," she said after a heartbeat. "But be careful, Mr. Peverell. Any accidents…"

"I understand," Jaculus said. "Thank you, Professor. I appreciate it. And, by the way, I have a question—will I be Sorted with the first years?"

"Hmm," she said. "We can do it here. Perhaps it would be an easier transition for you if we did it now." She nodded toward the old, large hat, perched on a shelf above her desk.

"That would be okay," Jaculus said.

He found that he really didn't care what house he was put in, even though he'd been worried over it when he was eleven. Now, it seemed so petty compared to everything else on his mind, and compared to everything he'd lived through.

Before McGonagall could move, Jaculus gestured with his hand wordlessly, and the Sorting Hat gently sailed down to his head.

" _Ah, it's a bit early—a transfer student, I see? Interesting,"_ said the hat.

A pause.

" _Oh, Merlin,"_ the hat said.

" _Yes, I know,_ " Jaculus thought, weary. " _Just get on with it. You're here to Sort me, not to judge me."_

" _Fine, all right, all right,"_ the hat said. " _You are one of the strangest heads I've been on top of, Jaculus. I'll Sort you—again, apparently._

" _You consider yourself a budding journalist, and you could do well in Ravenclaw, pursuing the truth and writing stories you love. But when it comes to your personality, you don't quite mesh. You can be more rash than logical, especially considering that you jumped headfirst from one dimension to another._

" _You have a profound loyalty toward your loved ones. Your snake. Your Teddy Lupin. Your parents, even if such a loyalty was complicated due to the nature of your prophecy. But again, personality-wise, you are not a Hufflepuff at heart—"_

" _Just say it,"_ Jaculus said.

" _Oh, fine!"_ the hat exclaimed. It called out, "SLYTHERIN!"

Jaculus waved the hat way. The hat landed back on its shelf.

There. He was back in his old house.

* * *

Of course his life had to be even more difficult.

The remnants of the destroyed Horcruxes were in the Forbidden Forest. And they were _scattered._

Jaculus had mumbled something about wanting wander the grounds, and McGonagall had nodded, saying it would be a good idea if he knew where his classes were. She had given him directions to Professor Slughorn's office.

Jaculus had ignored those instructions and instead went looking for the Dark Lord's Horcruxes.

" _Kaisa,"_ he hissed, standing at the boundaries of the Forbidden Forest, " _it is frusssstrating that my dad can be jussst as competent in this world as he was in my mine. I sssshouldn't have thought he would be too different."_

" _He managed to kill the Dark Lord here, remember?"_ Kaisa said. " _Don't underesssstimate him."_

" _I'll have to keep that in mind."_

He would. He might have to fight, or even kill this world's Harry Potter. He didn't want to, but if it was absolutely necessary, he would.

But wasn't he going to choose his dad in the other universe? And wasn't the whole point of coming here about preventing his death? Yet this Harry Potter was not his dad; he knew this since the meeting in the graveyard. Jaculus would prefer to take down the Plague Doctor without any interference—

_Salazar,_ Jaculus thought, his head spinning. _What am I thinking? I'm not going to kill him. I'm not._

Once upon a time, the Dark Lord would've been proud if he knew what Jaculus had been thinking.

" _I'm still sssscared, Kaisa,"_ he said in whisper. " _I am still in darknessss."_

" _You were alwaysss meant to be,"_ she said. " _But that does not make you a bad perssson. Jaculus, you are in grief. You are not ssstable."_

She said it gently. If anyone else had told him that, Jaculus would have raged or would have snapped at them. But this was Kaisa, and she told him nothing but truth.

" _Ssstable?"_ he repeated, bewildered. " _You mean, in my head? I'm not crazy, Kaisa."_

" _Not crazy,"_ she said. " _Jussst sad. Like many of the refugees in Hogwartsss, who lossst so much during the war."_

Post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, or another one of those ailments.

How strange.

Jaculus had helped cure a plague in one universe, but he still came out of it sick.

_But—but it isn't anything serious_ , he told himself. It wasn't like he had the plague. It was just a stage of grief, or a couple of stages, right?

He did not want to think about the choking cloud of sorrow that engulfed him while he stared out of the window of the Lovegood House.

Kaisa extended her forked tongue to the side of his cheek, a gesture of comfort. The sides of Jaculus' mouth twitched, and he felt better.

He closed his eyes and tried to detect the remains of the Dark Lord's soul pieces.

The closest one he felt was the strongest. It must have been the Dark Lord's first Horcrux.

The diary. Dad destroyed it when he was twelve years old.

Jaculus' senses reached out, searching.

For some reason, no creature in the forest bothered him—was it something to do with the Hallows? Or did they sense the strength of his magic and how dark it was?

There was only silence. Leaves crackled underfoot, and Jaculus walked in the shadows of the trees. He stepped out to a sunlit clearing where the grass was bright vivid green.

It was somewhere around here.

Then, Jaculus saw a boy standing in the clearing.

The boy was around Jaculus' age, although he was tall. He was wearing a white buttoned-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his trousers a khaki brown.

At his throat was a green-and-silver tie.

He had his long dark hair pulled up in a ponytail. His skin was light brown, and he was partway on fire.

A phoenix hovered above him, letting flames dance on the boy's arms. The boy wasn't flinching. It was as if he was playing, practicing, soaking in sunlight and fire.

Kaisa said, " _It'sss him."_

Jaculus knew this boy.

In Jaculus' world, the Dark Lord was allied with a rising dark lord in France. The French dark lord was young and ambitious, and Jaculus had seen him at political gatherings.

The French dark lord was considered the Dark Lord's protégé, second to Jaculus.

_He is not as powerful as you,_ the Dark Lord told Jaculus. _But he has his own talents. And he is useful when it comes to playing politics._

Jaculus didn't know that the French dark lord went to Hogwarts. But he must have, if he was here now.

Suddenly, the boy saw Jaculus.

The phoenix trilled something to the boy, and his eyes widened. The fire dancing on his shoulders vanished.

_Holy hell,_ Jaculus thought. _That's Dumbledore's phoenix. What is he doing here, with him of all people?_

"Fawkes said you're the Master of Death," the boy said, staring at Jaculus. He had a soft voice, with a barely noticeable accent. "And although he did not sound very happy about it, he said you're the Dark Lord's heir."

"I am," Jaculus found himself saying.

He didn't know why he didn't lie, but he _knew_ this boy from his old world. They hadn't been friends or even acquaintances, but he could still remember how the dark lord of France smiled at him and treated him with careful respect.

The boy fell to his knees. "I am Aymar Popal, my lord."

And this was familiar, too. The graceful way the dark lord of France had knelt in front of Jaculus, his arm tucked against his stomach and his head bowed. His long black cloak used to billow around him with the movement, and he'd looked up with eyes the color of charcoal.

"I know who you are," Jaculus said. "You are… _le phénix noir._ Do you call yourself Ankaa yet?"

Lord Ankaa, the dark phoenix of France. There were rumors that Ankaa had ifrit blood in his veins.

Ankaa—Aymar Popal?—peered at Jaculus. "You know the name I chose for myself."

"I do."

A world away, and the reverence in Ankaa's eyes when he looked at Jaculus remained the same.

Jaculus gave Ankaa a flicker of a smile, because despite himself, he missed this part of his old life. Ankaa's presence was familiar; his magic felt familiar, dark against dark.

"My name is Jaculus," he said. "But you can't call me that at school here. I'm calling myself Jack Peverell.

"Stand up, Ankaa. There's something I'm looking for in this clearing. A diary."

* * *

He told Ankaa that he had to speak with Fawkes before they searched. Jaculus quickly threw up a silencing ward.

"Why are you with him?" Jaculus asked Fawkes. "You know who he is and what he could be."

Fawkes regarded him in silence.

"Oh. You want to change him, don't you? Because in this world, Dumbledore died earlier, and you found Ankaa before another phoenix could lay claim to him."

"That's stupid," Jaculus said. "Ankaa would never turn away from dark arts. But you know, I won't stop you. You can stay with him if you want."

Fawkes let out a squawking sound. A question.

"It might be good for him," he said. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. "He was—very loyal and self-destructive to a fault in my world. Unbalanced. The phoenix that bonded to him had destabilized him to the point of near-madness. He was there, but he still wasn't there…I don't know how to explain it."

The only reason the Dark Lord had let Ankaa live was because his madness made him easier to control.

"As for the Horcruxes," Jaculus began.

At that, Fawkes' beady eyes narrowed and his claws flashed with fire.

Forcefully, Jaculus said, "I need to bring him back. There is a greater threat out there, and I owe the Dark Lord a debt. You do know who I am, don't you? Not just the Dark Lord's heir, but-?"

Fawkes nodded.

"So trust me."

**Author's Note:**

> Original Author's Note from 9/5/2016: _Everything will be explained in time. Jaculus' universe is not compliant with HBP/DH/TCC, while the one he falls into is semi-compliant up to DH (eg. definitely not epilogue compliant, among other things)._
> 
> _This is a guilty pleasure fic that I'm not sure I'm going to write much of. By the way, if it makes anyone feel better: the circumstances of Jack's birth were not mpreg. It's a magic handwavey potion ritual Chekhov's plot device thing. Giving away a major spoiler, but mpreg is a huge squick for me so this is reassurance to others who feel the same way._


End file.
